The Trip Home Prequels
by mskathy
Summary: This will be a series/set of prequels to The Trip Home. Right now I believe they will only cover Edward and Jasper's time together, so I'll label this slash. These will be covering the story of how they fell in love, pre-Bella. Adult, lemons, slash!
1. Chapter 1

**I owe a massive debt of thanks to so many people. I sure hope I don't forget anyone, this feels like Oscar night and I've been given the privilege of posting an FFFA! This is srs bzns.**

**Thank you to my faboo beta, siouxchef. Thank you to my friends, who keep me sane late at night and early in the morning, and who force me to remove perfectly acceptable documents from the trash bin on my laptop. In no particular order, siouxchef, algonquinrt, 4theluvofmary, adorablecullens, tara sue me, ninapolitan and manyafandom. A very large pile of thanks is also owed to the people who have supported The Trip Home from the beginning. It wasn't always clear for everyone else was the vision was, and I very much appreciate those who stuck it out and decided they would enjoy the wild ride with me. **

**Which brings me to my next and final thanks – to NaughtyPastryChef, even though she'll probably never see this. I would absolutely never have begun this story without you and I will be forever thankful to you for your encouragement and collaboration in the beginning.**

**This is the first of The Trip Home Prequels.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

**The inspiration for this prequel is the following paragraph in Chapter 4 of The Trip Home:**

The fourth photo was one of me in front of U of C on my first day of med school. It was the first day Jasper and I had been intimate, just after I got home from class and he had come home from practice, all sweaty and ready for a shower. When I think about it, or see this photo, I can still taste his salty skin in my mouth. I almost got hard looking at it again, but I was able to keep my thoughts under control.

**JPOV**

I would never forget the first time I looked at Edward and thought something sexual about him. We were twelve, and up in the treehouse in his backyard. We spent the majority of our time up there during the summer, but this was different. We were both growing into our bodies, still gangly and awkward. It wasn't anything intentional he did that made me look at him differently; it was just the way he was laying on the ground, feet up in the air as we looked at at our graphic novel together. I had the strongest urge to kiss him, something I hadn't done yet with anyone. His lips were unconsciously puckered as he read, pouting and ready to touch mine.

Three summers later, at fifteen, I knew Edward was still a virgin. I had lost my virginity to Jessica. It lasted all of five minutes. Only three were inside of her, the other two were spent frantically groping each other.

By our senior year of high school, we'd both had sex with a few girls. Neither of us was promiscuous, but we found likable girls that we dated for a while and things progressed naturally. Edward's parents were like second parents to me by then. Sleepovers on weekends were a common occurrence. We usually shared Edward's bedroom, one of us on the long leather couch and one in the bed.

But sometimes? Sometimes we _accidentally_ touched. Accidentally on purpose, of course.

The very first time we touched was in his bathroom. Edward had just taken a shower before bed, and I had to go pee. It would have been nothing for me to walk by him and take a piss as he towel dried, but this time, I let my hand swing out just a little farther than normal. The moment the edge of my right hand brushed across his towel-clad thigh, I got hard. So hard I thought I might pass out. Thankfully, I didn't.

By our high school graduation, I suspected I was in love with Edward. We posed for a photo for Carlisle, and Edward's cologne wafted to my nose. Instant erection. _Thank god for graduation gowns._

Edward came to almost every one of my games once I was recruited to play for the Chicago Fire. He would study at home and then sit in the stands and watch me. By my second year with the team, I knew the tension between us was building to epic proportions. I would need to confront Edward with what I felt. I just didn't know how or when.

It took two more long years. Two more years of glances. Subtle touches. Walking in on each other in the shower, _accidentally_ of course. Who the hell doesn't hear the water running? We would each create excuses to be there, things we had to talk about immediately, which were all complete and utter bullshit and we both knew it. It was during one of those _accidental _walking-ins that I stopped, stripped, and joined Edward in the shower.

He began to protest--weakly mind you--and I shushed him. It had been too long for both of us, the build-up too great. The moment I was behind him, I pressed against him and wrapped my hand around his waist. Awkward, clumsy and fast don't even begin to describe that first encounter we had. Too quickly after I'd begun, Edward started to cum, one of his hands against the wall to support his body. His moans had begun to sound almost painful, his body shaking even after his orgasm subsided. I trailed one hand down his back from his shoulder as the other let go of his softening cock and opened the shower door. I knew there would be no reciprocation when I got into the shower. I just wanted to give him that, in that moment. To open the door between us that seemed locked and unspoken of for so long.

To my utter surprise, the next day Edward walked in on my shower. Stepped in behind me. Touched and stroked me to orgasm, although not nearly as quickly as I had done for him. I had been thinking of Edward for years by then; the same stroking motions he was now engaging in were part of my nearly daily repertoire of fantasizing about Edward's hand, Edward's mouth, and... well... other parts of Edward's body I wasn't even ready to admit to myself yet.

We continued this pattern of shower pleasure for a few weeks. I had come to terms with loving Edward, but I had no clue if he thought this was simply some stress relief, fulfilling a need we each had or something more.

Soon. I would talk to him soon.

Soon turned into another month. Very slowly, I started to ease in moments of affection during our showers. I noticed Edward would give me little signs before he would head to the shower and I had begun to do the same. Now I would rest my chin on his shoulder as I touched his body. He would lean back into me, even before I began. The epic tease he had become was a shock to me; he would sometimes consciously or unconsciously rub against my cock as I stroked him to orgasm. The icing on the cake--when I knew I'd have to talk to him--came when he reached behind him and began to stroke me in the same rhythm I was working him.

We still had yet to kiss, or even face each other as we softly moaned and panted through our pleasure, but this was the confirmation I needed that he might be feeling something for me.

~*~

**EPOV**

I had no clue what had been happening with Jasper and me. The first time he came into the shower with me and began touching me, I was so full of need. I didn't even know what I needed so badly: the release? The intimate touching? Jasper? I remember thinking it couldn't have been Jasper. I wasn't gay.

As we repeated that moment in the shower over the next few days, I became worried. _I like women_, I reassured myself. What I was doing with Jasper was just stress relief, right? We were in a slump with girls; school was taking a priority for me. It was no big deal, just two guys lending each other a helping hand, literally. We had grown up together; we were close. We could trust each other with this and it wouldn't change who we were, or where our lives were headed.

Jasper was so proud of me on the first day of med school. He insisted on taking my picture outside the building, and I felt so silly. It was a monumental day in my life; I had dreamed of medical school as far back as I could remember. After he snapped the photograph, he hugged me and whispered to me.

"I always knew you'd accomplish this. I'm so proud of you."

Very small words, but the impact they had on me in that moment was profound, and I realized for the first time that his feeling of pride was mutual. I was just as proud of Jasper for accomplishing something with his life as well. Not only was he a professional soccer player, but he took time to volunteer for causes close to his heart and gave monetary donations as well. He wasn't hugely well known around town, but well enough in the soccer fanatic community that his name helped.

As we embraced, the flash of realization shot through me and I knew. I felt something _more_ for Jasper. I wasn't sure exactly what, and it made me uneasy.The entire day was spent distracted with thoughts of what Jasper and I were. _What did it mean?_ All this time, I thought we were merely satisfying our needs with each other, but now I knew better.

I was relieved to be home first. Jasper had practice, and I needed time alone. I needed to sort through what I felt for him. Was it possible that I … loved Jasper? I mean, I'd loved Jasper as my friend since forever. I poured myself a scotch and sat on the couch to think.

When he walked through the door, the uncertainty vanished. All this time... wasted.

I was done wasting time.

It didn't matter anymore if I loved Jasper, or was in love with Jasper; all I knew was that at that moment, I needed him in a way I had not admitted to myself before.

"Hey, how was your first day?"

Sweat was glistening on his body as he took his shirt off: his standard routine for arriving home after practice. This was my signal from Jasper that it was nearly shower time, except I had other plans for us. Greater plans. Scotch-induced braver plans.

"It was good," I said as I stood up. I had to hold the smirk in. Now that I knew I was going to bring whatever was going on with Jasper to another level, I was getting rather confident about it. All of the moments when he had touched me unnecessarily or rested his head on my shoulder in the shower flashed in my mind, and I realized he'd been slowly getting to this place in his own head.

Placing my scotch glass on the counter, I raised an eyebrow at him and tilted my head to the side. The smirk escaped now and he looked at me curiously.

"Jasper?"

He hummed a questioning reply.

"We're not going into the shower today."

As his eyebrows creased, I moved to close the distance between us. His bag was on the ground, sweat-soaked shirt resting on top of it. Shoes, having been toed-off the moment he was inside, were at the door.

"We're not?"

The look on his face was disappointment mixed with confusion. Even as I moved toward him, I could see his hesitation and worry.

"Well, maybe we'll get there... eventually."

I was next to him now, not touching anywhere on his body, but the heat moving through the air between us. Having just come from practice, Jasper's body temperature was raised and along with the sweat I could see on his skin, I could smell it. I had been in a locker room before. It was safe to say I'd smelled sweaty men, but this wasn't quite the same. Jasper didn't smell funky sweaty; he smelled clean and salty. There was no foul odor coming from him that turned me off; in fact, the smell made me want him even more. I didn't even know someone could be this sweaty and smell this good.

We seemed to be locked in a battle of wills, standing there facing each other, waiting to see who would finally make the first move. I reminded myself that I was done waiting and cupped his face in my hands. I needed to kiss him. I needed the intimacy that moment would bring. I needed to know if it was just release or if there was more behind it.

_No more wasted time,_ I thought as I pushed my lips into his. This was my moment of truth. Jasper would either respond in kind, or freak out, and I would be destroying a lifelong friendship.

His body pressed into mine, and I let out an audible sigh of relief. I moved my lips against his, taking his lower lip into my mouth. I wanted to devour and enjoy every part of Jasper in that moment. I let his lip slip back out through my teeth and then nipped at his neck.

My hands were at his waist, fingering the elastic band of his shorts. As my mouth moved lower on his body, so too did my hands, taking his shorts and boxers with them. Once they were off his body, I had a moment of hesitation and wonder; _was I the kind of guy that swallowed?_

Mentally thanking the scotch for giving me that thought, instead of the other thousand or so that might have been laced with panic at what I was about to do, I suppressed a laugh. My hands trailed up the back of Jasper's legs and as I faced off with the source of Jasper's pleasure, I let my palms rest on the flesh of his ass.

I felt myself straining in my own pants; the panic and fear rising and competing with the lust. The scotch was wearing off quickly at the sobering reality of the situation. I may have even completely lost my nerve, if not for one small single-syllable word from Jasper.

It came out of his mouth as a whisper, but it was enough.

"Please."

Kneeling on the floor, I looked up at him. The desire was written across his face and flooding out from his eyes, which were now creased with need. Realizing that I'd never be able to look at him while I did what I was about to do, I lowered my eyes again, and then my mouth.

Instantly, I felt some sort of camaraderie with every girl who had ever performed this exact act on me. My mouth felt weird wrapped around Jasper and I wasn't exactly sure what to do, even though I had gotten several blowjobs in my time. I could feel his muscles tense beneath my palms and took that as a good sign that I wasn't entirely fucking things up. Yet.

Trying to bring up memories of things I had appreciated and enjoyed in the past, I snaked out my tongue on the next up movement of my mouth, swirling the head of his cock. I licked and kissed my way back down, then one of my hands left his ass to cup his balls. As I squeezed, I slipped my mouth back around him and took him in again, increasing my friction and speed.

Jasper's hands moved to my head as his hips flexed, and I took him deeper than I thought I could. I knew what he was feeling in that moment: the primal need that gripped his body. Out of my control now, the pace was set by Jasper's hands and hips. I slipped deeper into the moment and moaned around him, admitting to myself that giving up and letting him take over turned me on beyond what I could have imagined.

As my hand on his ass began to squeeze and press, encouraging him to continue, I could hear him muttering profanities. Moments later, his fatigued muscles began to shake, and I wondered if he was getting closer to his release. As I continued to lick and suck at him, he got louder, and I concentrated my attention to the head of his dick, adding a twist of my head and flicking my tongue at him while he was still wrapped in my lips.

It caught me off-guard when he came, the hot salty cum flooding my mouth, and his loud groan assaulting my ears. Then the panic really struck, and my empathy for the thousands of women world-wide swelled as I swallowed it down and tried my best not to gag. The feeling was in direct contradiction with the sense of pride I had that I had just given my very first blowjob, and it seemed like maybe I wasn't half bad at it.

I had little time to contemplate techniques or improvements to my methods; once he caught his breath, Jasper fell to his knees and pushed me onto my back with a wicked grin.

Unlike the trepidation I had, Jasper seemed to not hesitate or be nervous at all. _Perhaps he's been waiting for this longer than I have, _I thought. His hands moved from my shoulders, ghosting over my t-shirt covered nipples and then down to my lower half. He palmed me through the fabric of my pants, my head tilting back on the ground as a low moan escaped through my lips.

Jasper's hands went to my jeans and undid the topmost button before sliding the zipper down. His knuckles rubbed against the length of my cock as he did so, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had done this before, or had this done to him. Every move he made seemed so well thought out and executed, designed to turn me on even more.

Once my pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, he hooked his finger over the top of my boxers and slowly pulled them down. I looked at him and the grin was still plastered across his face, his eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. My heart lurched that he was looking at _me_ this way, with this desire, with this need. He didn't even bother to pull my pants off my body; he simply brought them down to my knees.

His eyes came up to meet mine, and when I could see his whole face, I saw how flushed he was. He was breathing heavily, lost in what we were doing together. While looking me straight in the eyes, he licked his lips and then moved his gaze back to my now-exposed cock. Before he took me in his mouth, he traced his fingertips around the head, teasing me. I lifted my hips, needing more friction from him, and he chuckled softly.

Gripping me, he lowered his lips just to the tip and kissed me softly before snaking his tongue out and pressing it flat against my slit. I could feel his tongue slide along the underside of my erection as his mouth greedily sucked me in. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming me. I had to focus, or I was going to blow my load way faster than I wanted. I had no idea if this would ever happen again, and as I focused on how fucking good it felt, I realized that I wanted to experience it as long as I could.

Jasper hummed around me, bringing his mouth back up and off of my erection as he swiped his tongue playfully at the head of my dick again. I couldn't watch anymore; if I was going to hold off any longer, I had to close my eyes and focus. Despite my attempts to prolong the moment, I felt everything he did even more intensely then, and I knew it was no use to fight it. I'd just have to hope this would be permanently added to our repertoire, no matter what the arrangement of our feelings and needs.

As he lowered his mouth around me again, one hand moved to cup me and his knuckle grazed just beneath my balls as his hand tugged gently. It was the last little sensation that I could handle and I had to physically hold myself back from thrusting into his mouth too hard as I let go and came in his mouth. The thought sparked through me and made my orgasm even more intense. _I was coming in __Jasper's mouth._

He kissed my thigh after releasing me from his mouth, and slid up my body. Rolling to one side of me, we lay there together trying to catch our breath. So many thoughts swirled in my brain, but the ones that stood out the most were simply, _What the fuck did we just do, and, when can we do it again?_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: My "thank yous" got so long I put them at the bottom. Up here, I want to thank my beta, siouxchef, who is always there to hold my hand and reassure me. I very much also appreciate the fabulous Ninapolitan for allowing me to write another Friday Free For All. Below is my Oscar-length "thank you" list. **

**This is part two of the The Trip Home Prequels, where we learn more about Edward and Jasper and their journey before Bella. Bella has started talking to me recently, explaining that she wants a turn. I suspect she will be the next Prequel to show up in your mailbox, so if you want to read it, make sure you are on the alerts. I don't know yet how detailed or in-depth it will be, or even what it will cover – I suspect she'll recap life, and a few dating partners with some details, but no true lemons. **

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

_When last we left our boys... _

**EPOV**

He kissed my thigh after releasing me from his mouth, and slid up my body. Rolling to one side of me, we lay there together trying to catch our breath. So many thoughts swirled in my brain, but the ones that stood out the most were simply, _What the fuck did we just do, and, when can we do it again?_

_***_

I knew this wasn't another incident we could go months without talking about. This, we had to address. Not just the progression of our physical relationship, but the realization that there was genuinely something more between us. As we lay there panting, chests rising and falling in synchronicity, my heart clenched painfully.

Jasper gave me no time to get lost in my sea of emotion, however. His hand fell into mine and he pulled me to standing. As Jasper led me into the bathroom, he squeezed my hand a few times. When the water was running and warmed up, he tugged my hand and brought us under the hard spray.

Once we were wet, Jasper leaned in to kiss me. I couldn't quite place everything that had changed between our last kiss and this one, I just knew it was different. The intensity was so much greater, the passion flamed hotter and our need for each other seemed to lick at the edges of our skin.

My hands moved down his body and wrapped around his hard cock. The excitement that I was going to be face-to-face with him as I touched and pleasured him this time was palpable. I felt his hand on my own dick as we stroked each other together. His whole body pressed to mine and I rested back against the cool tile of the shower walls.

As our bodies slid together, water providing the slightest bit of slickness between us, I felt Jasper's mouth on my neck. When his teeth scraped the surface of my skin, my body tensed and I came without warning. My forehead rested on his shoulder and I looked down to watch us moving together. My fingers glided over his thickness, then I wound my hand around his head, palming the very tip of him. On my next downstroke, I gripped tighter, wanting to watch his orgasm as it happened. Several strokes later, he let out a deep noise and I watched as he came.

Exhaustion began to take over and we rinsed off quickly. Our touches had changed and morphed, exchanged with intent and affection. We dried each other off and I raised an eyebrow at my bed, a silent invitation.

That was the first night Jasper and I slept in the same bed. Most of the night, I watched him. I watched as sleep gently took him under. Unlike me, he didn't fight it, he went gracefully into the night. The muscles in his face relaxed, except for the hint of a smile on his lips. The creases at his eyes softened and let go. His hair dried and I fought the urge to touch it constantly. To touch him. We were close to each other, closer than two "friends" would be in bed, but not wrapped up as lovers.

In the dark of night, I gave in to my body's need for rest, but even through sleep, my brain kept working overtime. Wondering what we were. What would we become.

The next week was fucking exhausting. Not only was I having trouble sleeping, desperately trying to find some meaning, some explanation of what my life had turned into, but Jasper was in prime game season. When I wasn't at school, studying in the library or in classes, I was watching as Jasper settled into his groove and began to dominate on the field. In the few years he had been playing with the Fire, he had grown as a player enough that even I could see a difference.

One winning match against a team I'd never remember, thirteen classes, six days and one hundred and seven hours had passed, give or take a few minutes. I did the math in my head quickly as my mind began to wake at his touches. It was early; my alarm hadn't yet gone off. Even on weekends, I had taken to getting up at the same time each day in order to stay in my routine.

Warm, wet kisses were landing on my legs. The sun was beating down in my room, blinds open to help me wake up in the mornings. I was hot, the blanket suddenly causing me to sweat and breathe harder. I wondered if I was dreaming. It wouldn't have been the first wet dream I'd had about Jasper. Whatever it was, I decided to go with it, reaching my hand down to touch any part of him I could. His hair felt soft under my fingertips as he kept placing those damn kisses all over.

As his upper body began to cover my lower half, the deliciously heavy weight of him unselfconsciously pressed against me, I grew harder. I made no attempt to stop the physical signs of my need as he crawled up, pulling my blanket to the side. My eyes were closed and I was certain I was not dreaming once he slid his lips around the head of my erection. I tipped my head, moaning softly, as he worked his mouth up and down, twisting and turning.

My fingers tugged through his hair, pushing and pulling, demanding of him where my words and voice failed me. I wanted and needed him so much, it was only moments later that I came. Jasper was kind and loving in his actions, licking and kissing me softly, gently, as he made his way up my body. I felt myself sliding deeper into the emotions we were sharing, and as he curled up next to my chest, I couldn't find it in me to care that I had no fucking clue what we were doing together.

The blare of the alarm clock woke us up next, and after a long shower together, we were dressed and ready for the day. We hung out together in the apartment while I did schoolwork and Jasper did... whatever it was Jasper usually did on days at home like that. The truth was, I hadn't paid very close attention to Jasper's everyday routines up until that point.

Around dinnertime, we agreed to go to Uno's, one of our favorite places to grab pizza and hang out. We each ordered a beer and a large pepperoni pizza to share. As we waited for the food to arrive, we talked about the usual random life events: school, work, family. After some time, Jasper leaned across the table and lowered his voice.

"I've missed you this week," he offered.

"I missed you, too."

His hand came across underneath the table and rested carefully on my knee.

"I've been trying to keep my head focused on the team, and let you get your studying done this week, in the hope that maybe we could spend some extra time together this weekend."

We looked at each other for a few moments before I spoke. "Thank you for being so considerate, Jasper..." I began, my eyes creased with worry. "I don't know what this is."

"Why does it have to be something? Why can't it just be us, Edward?" he whispered softly.

Our pizza arrived at our table, preventing either of us from debating it further in that moment, and we ordered another round of beers. As we devoured the hot, cheesy pizza, I thought about what Jasper said. Why did I always have to define and classify every little thing? Maybe just for once, I could go with the flow. Let things happen, not worry about them so much.

After we ate, we walked the short distance to the apartment. Jasper's hand grazed mine several times and I itched to hold it. Whatever this was, even if we didn't define it, it wasn't something either one of us was willing to share with the world just yet, if ever. Jasper had a lucrative career to worry about, and I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt that.

Once were inside, however, all bets were off. I barely had the door closed when Jasper pressed me up against it, his body hard and defined behind mine. He seemed overwhelmed with his need, hands gliding up underneath my t-shirt, wasting no time as he threw it off my body. Both hands came down the front, stopping to tweak my nipples quickly, and then went to the button on my pants. Before he had them unzipped, however, he pressed his length into me, and I wondered where we were headed.

As he muttered and swore, his hands left the waistband of my pants and ran back up my chest, pulling me back into him even more. I realized he was whispering, arguing with himself. I turned to face him, to try and decipher what was causing him so much pain and anguish. Once I could see his face, the answer was no more clear. I cupped his cheeks in my hands, tilting his eyes to meet mine.

"What's wrong?"

I started to worry he was having second thoughts – rethinking our informal arrangement? Relationship? Whatever it was that we had agreed to not define mere hours ago.

"I just... I can't... I wanna..."

The lines on his forehead creased heavily and I moved forward to kiss him softly.

"God, Edward," he groaned in my ear as I nipped at his collarbone. "I want to fuck you."

His voice was so small, so light, such a whisper. He _what?_

I stopped all movement as I processed what he said. I was wrapped up in worrying about him wanting to stop what we were doing, worried he was warring with himself over his feelings for me, and he wanted to... do that?

Setting my head on his shoulder, I composed myself. I'd had a few girlfriends _go exploring_ before, but never to quite the extent I was sure Jasper wanted. And, my God, I knew the size of him, compared to dainty lady fingers. The thought almost made me cringe, but I trusted Jasper.

"I," I hesitated. I wasn't sure which words to use, how to phrase them, or what to say. Did I really want him to fuck me? Did I want to make love with him? What was I, sixteen and at my junior prom again? "I think I'd like that."

I pushed off the door, wanting Jasper to know I wanted it to happen. It wasn't just me acquiescing to his desires and needs, I wanted him just as badly once the thought settled into my head. I pressed my body to his gently at first, and then harder, making him walk backwards. Once we were in my room, he sat on the bed in front of me.

"Stop, wait," he breathed. "Do you have any lube?"

It took a few moments for the synapses to fire again in my brain, but I shook my head.

"I'll be right back."

He left the room and my thoughts slammed into me. Did I really want to do this? It was probably going to hurt, I realized. But then again, it hurts for girls the first time, too, right? Does it ever _not_ hurt, I wondered. I mean, if all these people are doing it, there must be some pleasure in it eventually, right? What do you do fir-

My thoughts were cut off midway by Jasper walking back into the room. He had such a beautiful smile, I was caught off-guard by it. Jasper recaptured my attention with his hand snaking down my pants. As he took me in his hands, I closed my eyes and heard things landing on a soft surface and assumed it was the lube on the bed. He unbuttoned my pants then pushed them down with my boxers.

"Lay down," he said softly.

I opened my eyes to watch him as he took his clothing off, keeping his eyes trained on my body the entire time. My hand was lazily stroking myself as the last of his clothing hit the ground. Jasper crawled onto the bed next to me and took his time touching me everywhere. I tried to relax, letting my muscles loosen under his actions.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as he finally brought his back to mine and we kissed languidly for several minutes. I could feel his hardness against my thigh and I was eager to get things moving. I had no idea how to proceed, however.

"Jasper?"

Certain he could see the pleading in my eyes, I lifted my hips for extra emphasis. He chuckled and smiled at me.

"Patience, Edward. I don't want to hurt you. I'm going to take things extra slow and gentle."

There was a sweet, teasing quality to his voice, and it just made me want him even more. Once he was back to touching my legs, I saw him grab a bottle of clear liquid and open the cap. I watched between my calves as he poured the lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together carefully to warm it, and then reached out and touched me. He didn't go straight in for the kill, so to speak – he ran his fingertips up and down the length of my shaft, teasing me and sending me back to a place of bliss.

Now and then, his fingers would move lower, teasing me even further. He played my body perfectly, adding more of the slick lubricant as needed, which I knew only from the coolness against my skin and increased slippery feeling of his fingers. Eventually, he worked the tip of a finger inside of me. I was unsure, nervous, and he kept the right pace, using one hand to stroke me slowly and carefully as his other pressed the single finger further inside.

I watched as he added a second finger, again with careful precision and practice, watching the bottle drip slowly from his other hand. There was something entirely erotic about watching both of his fingers dip in and pull back out of my body, and once I relaxed and let go, the experience was pleasurable beyond what I had imagined, especially when I felt him rubbing softly over my prostate. The way his fingers slid across it, rubbing and stimulating, but not directly pressing, was driving me crazy.

Jasper reached to our side and grabbed a condom that I hadn't even seen. I sat up fairly quickly and snatched it from his hand, ripping it open. I figured out which side was up, then carefully rolled it down Jasper's waiting cock. Leaning forward a little more, I kissed him hungrily, ready to take this next step together.

Laying back down, I smiled at him and he smiled back. Even I had enough common sense to know that two fingers wasn't the head of his dick, but he had been true to his word, taking things slowly, and I had no reason to believe this would be any different. He poised his body over mine, then shifted his hand back lower on my body. He teased me again with his fingers, reminding my body of their previous acceptance of him, and then slowly guided himself to me. Jasper took his time rubbing the slippery tip of his erection over and around, pressing gently periodically and then returning to rubbing. He was working me into a frantic frenzy of need and want, and I was ready to press my body lower and just take him, but I wanted to move at his pace.

Finally, blissfully, he pressed the tip forward and into me, and it did hurt to begin with. I took a deep breath and attempted to relax my muscles again as he pulled back out. He repeated this movement, going mind-numbingly slowly forward each time, until he was able to pick up his pace and move deeper inside of me each time. I was aware of my body reacting, my vocal chords straining and making noise, but nothing seemed to exist in that space except for Jasper's body and mine.

Before I had time to think about touching myself, or asking Jasper to touch me, he was coming loudly. He was buried entirely inside of me and it made my own cock throb to think about what he was doing. As he pulled out of me, making sure to keep the condom on, and then dispose of it properly, I wondered if he was going to let me reciprocate the action.

We laid together on the bed and after a few minutes, I pressed myself against Jasper's body. I wanted to give him time to get used to the idea before I spoke the words out loud, if I could even bring myself to. He moaned into my mouth, which I took as a sign to proceed.

"Jasper, I want you to..." I stopped, needing to think about how I wanted to phrase it. I decided to just man up and say it. "Get on your knees."

He chuckled lightly, but complied. I picked up the small bottle and poured some of the lube onto my fingers. I began to tease him as he teased me, spreading the wetness around. I felt and heard him moan, his body pressing back against my hand. I pressed my fingertip in experimentally and he got louder, pushing back, and taking in more than just my fingertip. I raised an eyebrow, but went with it. As more of the cool liquid dripped from my other hand onto where our skin met, I added another finger.

"Edward," he moaned. "More, please."

"I'm just trying to be gentle, like you were. I don't want to hurt you," I explained. I understood the biology of the body parts we were playing with, so I knew the importance of warm-up at least.

"Fuck, this isn't how I wanted to have this conversation Edward, but this isn't my first time. Please," he begged. "Put on a condom and fuck me."

I was too horny to question, to be more curious, so I did as he asked. I unwrapped the condom, slid it down myself and positioned my cock at his opening. I still took my time getting him used to my body; he was Jasper, and I cared for him greatly (loved him, maybe?), and I would never want to cause him unnecessary pain.

Once he was showing no signs of being in pain, and every sign I knew of his pleasure hitting higher and higher, I began to thrust slightly faster. I was pulling out almost entirely and pushing back in as deep as I could each time, both of us panting and groaning. Jasper's head was turned to the side, his cheek resting on his arms as he willingly offered up his body for my pleasure, and I took it greedily.

My hands were on his hips, steadying myself, and helping to guide him as I wanted. I flexed back and forth, feeling my orgasm building from my toes. My knees were aching, breath escaping my lungs in short bursts, and my whole body began to tingle and cry out as I thrust into him faster. I shifted my right hand to Jasper's cock and began to stroke him in time with my thrusts.

"Jasper, fuck, I want you to come with me," I panted out.

A long, loud, low groan came from his body, and I felt him stiffen in front me. As his muscles contracted, I cried out. Even through the thickness of the condom, I could feel him around me and it was one of the best sensations I'd ever felt. I stilled, wanting to absorb every last moment of his body's reaction around mine, and came harder than I could remember ever coming before.

As I pulled back and out of his body, he groaned again, though time it was softer and more quiet. I moved my hand to his back, stroking over his body. I felt so close to him in that moment, so much love. I had no idea if it was romantic love, life-long partner love, or just love in gratitude for sharing the experience with me.

"Fuck."

Jasper's body began to shake with laughter, after he swore.

"What's wrong?"

"Edward, I just came all over your bedspread. If I had known you were going to do that, we should have... I don't know, found a different position, or a condom or something."

He was still laughing and I took that as a good sign. I moved off the bed, then helped him up and off as well. He grabbed my comforter and cleaned it up a bit before putting it in the washing machine. It was late, too late to stay up and wait for it to wash and dry, I realized.

We decided to take a shower together and it was lovely. It was a reminder of how we began these intimate moments together, except this time we cared for each other in a different way. I soaped his back and washed his hair, and he did the same for me.

As I laid in bed curled around Jasper, wrapped in a blanket drenched in his scent, I realized that the shift and change in our relationship was obvious, even if the definition wasn't. I had no idea then that it would be only a matter of months before we found Bella and complete the puzzle of our lives.

**A/N2: Thanks to ninapolitan & manyafandom, who never fail to make me smile. To tby789, LolaShoes, Kassiah, siouxchef, bsabatino & moijojojo (and really, all the girls on Twitter), who seem to know just when I need a dose of love and are always happy to provide it. To adorablecullens & algonquinrt, who listen to me whine all fucking day, and never once tell me what a petulant bitch I am (perhaps they should start). To tarasueme, there just are no words for you, bb, you know them all already. To einfach mich & kimpy0464, who have both had to listen to late-night ramblings about a variety of topics I don't ever want to repeat, except in-person, with a beer or martini in my hand. Lady M and Angela of Alagaesia, you have been two of the most enthusiastic supporters on my Twilighted thread – thank you. Your enthusiasm and the love you show for this story is unbelievable, and really needs to be acknowledged. For that matter, I love the stuffin' out of everyone who takes the time to post on my Twilighted thread and review to tell me what you love/hate about this story, and I wish I had the space to call you all out by name. And, thank you to you – for reading this little oneshot of mine, and maybe for giving the TTH characters a first-time try on for size. **


	3. Edward and Jasper's Sr Yr of High School

**A/N: First and foremost, thanks go to Squalloogal for purchasing this outtake in The Fandom Gives Back auctions. She has given me more leeway than I expected, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. Although, to be fair, she did say her gut hurt and had tears streaming down her face... **

**Thank you to my beta, TwilightMundi, for helping me work out and fix some of the tiny details that make all the difference in the world. **

**THIS PREQUEL/OUTTAKE IS NOT WUSSPERV APPROVED AT ALL. I'm sorry in advance. I had to take several breaks while writing this, because I just never knew Jasper had all this going on inside his poor head and heart. This takes place in their senior year of high school which is referenced briefly in chapter 37 of The Trip Home. **

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

**JPOV**

High school is pretty awkward for most people, right?

Now imagine you're gay.

Well, technically, you suspect you're bi. You're also in love with your best friend of just about forever. And there's no chance you'll ever be able to tell him, or anyone, because you're trying desperately to get recruited to play professional soccer.

Welcome to my senior year of high school.

My adoptive parents were older than Carlisle and Esme, my chosen parents, and I never felt very bonded to them. That was the year their health began to fail, as well, and they had other, born-of-their-bodies children, who cared for them. I would watch at our family functions, few and far between, as we all interacted. More correctly, as they interacted and I observed.

Soccer had been the constant in my life, since I was small. Soccer and Edward. When I was on the field, watching down to the goal, I could narrow my focus and be good at something. It felt like one of the few things I was good at. I had failed my mother, who gave me up for adoption, simply by being created. I had failed my adoptive parents by not gaining their deep love, settling for the surface affection we shared for each other. I had failed Edward by falling for him, completely and irrevocably in love with my straight best friend.

Of course, I suspected for a long time before that year that I had feelings for Edward. I also knew I was attracted to women, and there just wasn't an understanding of what was going on in my head. The one time I needed my best friend the most, and we had somehow drifted the farthest apart we'd been in years. Since we'd met, probably.

Allowing my gaze to linger on Edward was one of the few pure pleasures I allowed myself that year. Home was … nowhere. The closest I ever got to feeling as though I belonged, as though my heart was at home, was on the couch in Edward's room.

Curiosity got the better of me one weekend. Edward was studying, Edward was _always_ studying those days, and I didn't want to stay home. I had a fake I.D. burning a hole in my pocket and that was going to be the night I used it, I decided.

Realizing I had a choice, for once in my life, this night was in my power. My control. My hands. What did I want to do? Go to a bar, pick up a deliciously curvy woman? Drink alone, swallowing away my troubles?

Before I even had too much time to think about it, I was driving to Seattle. There was nothing to do in Forks, nowhere to go. I could get a seedy motel room in Seattle fairly cheap, so I'd just enjoy a night out and crash, telling my parents I was at Edward's. They'd never check, and I felt a pang of guilt that I was lying to them, but I was almost a man. Almost eighteen. I could taste the freedom in the air, lingering and teasing me.

Once I'd decided to go to the city, I made a quick call to Edward.

"Hey Jazz," he answered, already sounding a million miles away.

I was bitter. Angry that he'd abandoned our friendship for his studies. He was the smartest person I knew, there was never a doubt in my mind he'd get into the college of his choice. He doubted his every move, however, and that made the year particularly difficult.

Our senior year should have been spent living it up together, but he insisted on spending so much fucking time at his house.

"I'm heading to Seattle to use those I.D.s Mike made us. You wanna come?"

Unable to keep the tinge of hope from my voice, I chastised myself internally for even allowing my hopes to get up. As I suspected, he let out a gust of air.

"Can't, Jazz. Studying."

Papers were being shuffled and I could imagine him in his bedroom, at the desk he'd once decorated with Spider-Man stickers. Okay, I might've helped.

"Edward, all you ever do anymore is study. Come on, man, it's just one night. You can tell your parents you're at my place, mine think I'm at yours, it'll be fun."

Even as I pled, I was headed outside Forks city limits.

"Jazz," he said with a sigh. "I wish I could. I really do."

There was such sadness in his voice, it took me a moment to formulate a response in my head, then send it out my mouth. I wondered if Edward was struggling with the same feelings and emotions I was. The realization that he might have been nearly made me turn around and rush to his house.

"Maybe next time?" I asked.

"Mmm," he replied.

Unable to hold the dirty thoughts at bay after his guttural noise, I ended our call quickly. I realized then that I was lonely. I wasn't just alone anymore, I genuinely longed to be with someone. The longer it was drawn out, the more desperate I became to connect to someone in order to take away that awful feeling.

Edward and I had been up to Seattle several times to shop or hang out, so I knew the streets fairly well. It was dark by the time I arrived, my plans to find a companion for the evening set in place. If I couldn't be with Edward, I could find someone to take his place, I reasoned.

I got a room at a seedy motel (at least it was cheap), and planned to walk to the bar. It was a cool night, not too cold, just cool enough so that I wore a jacket. The streets were busy and my mind wandered as I walked. Maybe what I felt for Edward was just a really strong bond. Maybe I just loved him like best friends do.

The more I tried to convince myself, the more it became a laughable attempt. Best friends don't generally want to touch each other the way my fingers ached to touch him. I tried to distract myself from those thoughts. I wanted a crystal clear, clean night with someone who would take my mind off all that.

Pausing at a lamppost, I leaned against it, people watching. It took a few minutes for me to realize I wasn't just standing outside a bar. I was standing outside a gay bar. I knew they existed, had even looked up where they were in the city, I just had no conscious plan to go into one. Ever.

Somehow, though, my feet led me to the door I could see men going into and coming out of. I took a deep breath to steel my nerves and pulled out my laminated lie, giving it to the doorman along with my cover charge.

Miraculously, he waved me in, handing the plastic rectangle back to me. The music was loud, too loud, and I couldn't hear myself think. All around me were men in various states of undress and sobriety. I wondered briefly what I was doing there. What was I trying to prove, and who was I trying to prove it to?

I had to figure out if it was just Edward. I needed to know right then, apparently. I scanned the room. My body didn't respond to anyone the way it had to Edward, and I was even more confused. Making my way to the bar, I ordered a drink and slugged it back in one quick gulp. I turned so my back rested against the wood, and watched. Was I like these men?

_Only one way to find out._

Wasting no time, I wandered to an opening in the dance floor. The lights swirled overhead, music thumping a heavy bass I could feel in my bones. It wasn't long before someone moved to dance with me. It felt awkward, but not entirely unpleasant.

As I tried to determine if the awkward was from grinding against a strange man or the fact that I was grinding against a man period, his hands went to my waist. I was surprised. Surprised by everything: the feeling of his hands against my denim-covered hips, the planes of his body as they fought with the hardness of mine, the way his scent washed over me. Mostly, I was surprised by my reaction. I shouldn't have been, but for some reason I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn't men, it was just Edward. This would be indisputable proof that I was flawed, broken.

The stranger moved even closer to me, his erection pressing into my stomach. His hands moved up to my face and he kissed me hard. I wasn't expecting it and it was like a punch in the gut. My eyes flew wide open and I practically ran out the door of the club. I stopped when I had gotten out into the cool air, hands on my knees, panting for air.

Once I was composed, I began the walk back to my motel room, chastising myself for chickening out at the last minute. How was I ever going to solve this personal mystery if I couldn't even go through with anything? Maybe the fact that I couldn't go through with it was proof enough. Did I really need to know, either way? Maybe I didn't need to know.

But I did know.

I went back to the club a few weeks later. Edward and I had grown even more uncomfortable with each other. I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a sleepover. He looked too stressed and I tried to remind him several times that he needed to relax more about his classes, but the circles grew more and more dark under his beautiful eyes.

Once, I met someone that reminded me of Edward. His eyes weren't as beautiful, his face not as distinct and handsome, but he'd do. Somewhere deep inside, I ached to be experimenting with Edward. Even as I met a guy and let him take me back to his place, I closed my eyes and it was him. Edward's scent. Edward's hands. Edward's mouth.

It was surprisingly cold and unfeeling. Even as my knees rested on the hard floor of his apartment, I began to regret my decision. I didn't want it to be like this, with some random guy I'd probably never see again. I wasn't a candy-and-flowers kind of a guy, but this? Giving some dude whose name I didn't even know a BJ after knowing him for all of five minutes? That wasn't me. And this guy? No matter how hard I pretended, he certainly wasn't Edward.

Thankfully, he fell asleep after I gave him what I was certain was a piss-poor virgin blow job. I had refused to let him reciprocate, and once he was sleeping, I put my clothes back on and took a cab to my car parked at the seedy motel. As I drove home, the confusion grew so deep and profound, I found myself at Edward's house that night. It will forever be etched into my brain – the Sunday I sought Edward, settled for Carlisle, and found myself.

The door was answered by Carlisle, who ushered me in. He explained that Edward had gone out with some girl Esme set him up with, and my body tensed. Again, I was being prioritized so low on the list, and it hurt.

"Why don't you come up to my study, Jasper. You look like you could use a friend," Carlisle offered.

"Sure."

We sat across from each other in Carlisle's study, the air charged with some weird emotion I couldn't identify. I was surprised when he poured me a small glass of scotch, then did the same for himself.

"Jasper, I can see that you're struggling. What's going on with you and Edward?"

I was even more confused then.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I said.

"Edward hasn't been himself lately. You two hardly see each other anymore. Did you have a fight?"

Shaking my head, I replied to the best of my abilities. "No, we haven't fought in years. I honestly don't know what's going on with Edward."

"And you?"

Sipping the rich, honey-colored liquid, I weighed my options. Carlisle was the closest thing I'd ever had to a father. Did I need to confess that I'd given one lousy blowjob and suspected I might be in love with Edward? Could I hide it forever? Would that help?

On the flip side, maybe Carlisle would have some advice for me. Some words to soothe the ache, to ease the pain. To help me to see clearly what the situation was.

"I..."

Could I say it? Could I get the words out of my mouth?

I took another deep breath. I needed someone, anyone, to be on my side. To help me. To guide me and give me advice.

"I think maybe, I might sometimes want... I mean, I..."

_Fuck._ This was not at all going how I imagined. I could only think of the most true words I knew to say right then.

"I think I might love Edward. I'm so confused. I went to this club downtown, trying to figure it all out. I don't know what's what in my head anymore. Am I gay? I don't think I'm gay. Fuck. Is this wrong?"

My fingers tapped on the stretched leather of the club chair I sat in. I listened to the ticking clock. I breathed deeply, feeling the residual burn of the liquor in my esophagus. I waited.

It felt like fucking forever.

I couldn't bring myself to look up at him; if he showed any signs of disappointment, I'd be crushed. I had opened myself, bared my soul to only him, and I waited for his words to either salve my heart or crush it.

"I think Edward might love you, too," he all but whispered. "I don't have any magic words, Jasper, just know that I see something there. I don't know what, I could be wrong, I certainly wouldn't advise pushing him into anything. But maybe..."

Carlisle gave me hope with that conversation. Hope that I would be okay. Hope that I was still loved by him and Esme. Hope that Edward and I might be able to work something out, someday.

Edward called me that night, and I had no idea if Carlisle had hinted to him that he should do so or if it was out of the blue, but the reconnection was welcome. I began spending more time with him again. I would bring music to listen to or a book to read as we studied, and I felt our bond return slowly.

When we resumed having our usual sleepovers, I did the very slightest of testing the waters and brushed against him a little more than necessary to keep the thought in his head, while still keeping what Carlisle had told me fresh. I would give him time. It was one of the few gifts I could give him in return for his unending friendship and love.

Things evened out between us and I eventually decided the tension that year had been caused by my own discomfort with who I was, who I had become, and who I wanted to be. My Edward returned and I felt lighter again.

In our time spent in Washington, I never went back to the bars. Things inside of me settled down, and I took what I could get in that span of time. I kicked up my training schedule and made sure I got recruited to Chicago, where I knew Edward wanted to go to college. It would be my only saving grace, I decided. I could make it through the uncertainty, if I had Edward.

Intense didn't begin to describe the level that I competed at, from then on. I talked to my team coach, I made whatever promises needed to be made, and I took care of my body properly, focusing all of my extra anxiety on being the best physical athlete I could be.

My life would have been infinitely easier had I just been able to push aside my feelings for Edward. Had we not been so close, had we not decided to live together, spend every waking moment we weren't otherwise occupied together, I could probably have done it.

But we did live together.

We were close.

We did spend all that time together.

Looking back, I don't regret one single day of heartache. Not a moment of uncertainty, not a day of confusion. It all led right where it was supposed to.

**EPOV**

You know those moments when your parents fight, and think you're completely oblivious?

I'm not talking about the all-out screaming matches that the neighbors hear. I'm talking about the quiet whisper-wars adults engage in when they're attempting to be discreet.

Attempting.

I had no idea what provoked them, I couldn't ever hear specifics, I just heard the whisper-wars as they began, then ended in stomping feet leaving the house.

Curious, I would leave my room and tip-toe to the end of the hallway. _Always the same._ I sighed. My fingers reached for the doorknob, needing to comfort her. Desperate. But I couldn't. It felt wrong to violate the secret that she was so desperately trying to keep.

Lying in bed, I would let my mind wander to what they might have been fighting about. Was he cheating on her? Was she cheating on him?

He began to work nights around that time, saying his boss demanded it of him. Did she want to move? he had asked with venom in his voice. Did she want to leave this beautiful house, the home they built together?

I heard her remind him it was only a home if they were both in it.

They always seemed so happy. These were my first lessons that the outside sometimes did not match the inside, and I bit down the bitter irony that they could dress in their fanciest clothes, spend time with their closest friends, and yet no one but me seemed to be noticing as they crumbled to bits. It was as if they were two pumice stones, bashing into one another, slowly wearing each other down to nothing. Dust.

His eyes had sunken into his face; my dad had always been a handsome man. I heard the nurses at the hospital talk about him, knew he could have his pick of any of them, should he want them. Did he want them? Was he planning to leave us?

She was just as bad off. I could tell she wasn't sleeping, pacing the floor during his night shifts. She would creep downstairs and turn the TV on, watching infomercials far beyond my own tolerance for being awake. Soft sobs sometimes escaped under her closed bedroom door; those nights were the hardest.

Jasper and I sometimes attended hospital functions with them and it irritated me to no end to see their public personas. Esme would get dressed in a beautiful dress, hair and makeup done by a paid professional, and Carlisle would wear his tuxedo.

I had stopped calling them Mom and Dad in my head; they'd lost those titles and the privileges that came along with them.

We'd spend the night talking to other hospital staff families, schmoozing, and having a generally good time. Except that inside, I was slowly being eaten away. The guilt and stress of watching my parents' marriage falling apart before my eyes was turning my stomach into a caustic wasteland.

Instead of spending my nights with Jasper, laughing and having a good time, I avoided him. Didn't want to burden him with this same pain I was going through. Refused to let him see what they had deteriorated into. If he stayed over, I was risking it being a quiet sobbing night, and I didn't want him to have to watch as I joined her. My silent show of solidarity with her pain.

Deciding I had to know who was to blame – there was always someone to blame, right? – I strained and listened harder for the next few weeks.

Things were worse with Jasper. He was frustrated with me and upset that I never wanted to go out or do anything anymore, but he didn't understand what I was going through. There was no way he could, since I wasn't telling him about any of it. I just had to hope we'd still be friends when this nightmare was over.

I felt more alone than I ever had. Esme was falling apart, Carlisle was falling apart, and I could see Jasper beginning to unravel at the seams as well. He'd begun taking weekend trips to Seattle, telling his parents he was spending the time with me, and I was worried.

School had become increasingly stressful. I needed to keep my grades up to get into a good school so that I could also get into a good medical school. I desperately wanted to be a doctor like Carlisle, although my opinion of the profession and its demands was beginning to wane slightly. Worrying that I'd lay an unfair burden on my family as Carlisle had, I would lay awake and think about a solitary life. I could do it. I was a fairly solitary person anyway.

Late one night I heard Esme down in the kitchen and decided to join her. She didn't seem to be crying and I'd heard no fighting that evening before Carlisle left, so I deemed it safe. Giving her a smile, I touched her shoulder briefly as I walked by.

"Hey, Son. What are you doing up so late?"

"Studying," I lied.

I needed my mom back. I needed her soft comfort. Her wise words. Her warm arms.

"You study too hard, Edward. You're too young to be so stressed already," she said, head shaking lightly.

"I told one of my girlfriends you'd take her daughter out. They're new to the area and she doesn't really have any friends yet. Could you do that for me?"

We sat across from each other in silence for a moment. My mug of coffee sat untouched as I tried to read her expression.

"Sure, Mom. How old is she?"

"Same as you: seventeen. She lives in Port Angeles, so I said you'd pick her up Saturday at seven. I'll give you some gas money and enough to take her to a nice dinner and a movie, alright?"

Nodding, I sipped my coffee. I'd been out with a few girls, and _with_ a few girls. It would be a nice distraction. Maybe she'd be interesting, physically or mentally. I could allow myself a crazy night, I decided.

When the night arrived, I took extra time in the shower. I shaved carefully. Dressed nicely.

It was one of Carlisle's rare nights off, so part of me wondered if the whole thing was a ruse to allow them the privacy to yell and scream, shouting out the names they'd only dared to whisper thus far.

Esme gave me cash on my way out the door, along with a peck on the cheek and a tight hug. She seemed so anxious for just sending me on a date, and I wondered if maybe this was the daughter of someone important.

On the drive, I considered calling Jasper, but thought better of it. I didn't need his opinion on this, he'd been acting too strange lately. Instead, I planned out in my head how I thought the night might. We had dinner reservations at a nice place. If things went well from there, maybe I could take her back to her parents' house and we could make out for a bit, depending on how strict they were. If I got really lucky, maybe she'd be frisky and we could see some action in my beloved car...

I picked her up right on time, her parents nowhere in sight, which I was slightly thankful for. She was pretty, not stunning or beautiful, but not awful either. We talked in the car, then at the restaurant, and she seemed smart as well. Before dessert, I reached and took her hand in mine. We exchanged awkward, nervous smiles, but she didn't make any move to pull away.

"You know, Edward, I wasn't sure how this date was going to go," she said. "I mean, I overheard your mom telling mine how quiet you are, but I'm having a nice time."

Smiling, I squeezed her hand. I was having an okay time, too, I had to admit. We finished eating and I took her home. There was an awkward kiss on her porch, but I didn't want to lead her on.

Once I was home, I just wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the silent house. Well, _mostly_ silent. Yep, my parents were upstairs. _Up_stairs. I had never heard them so loud before, not even when they argued.

Just for the briefest moment, I listened to double-check they weren't actually fighting, my brain still confused by this obvious outpouring of love. I quietly left, locking the door behind me, and sat in my car.

I did the only thing I could think of – I called Jasper. We talked for hours, laughing and teasing each other as if nothing had happened. When the sun came up, I went back inside and indulged in the quiet house. A long, luxurious shower was just what I needed, I decided, and I climbed under the hot spray.

Trying not to think about Jasper and our renewed connection, I let my thoughts drift to my parents. Even I wasn't so naïve that I thought one night of loud sex was enough to fix whatever was going on between them, but maybe it was a start.

Yawning, the warm water soothing and comforting me, lulling me almost to sleep, I finished up in the shower. I put on some lazy clothes (pajama pants and a t-shirt) and made my way downstairs.

"Hey Mom," I said.

As I passed by, I placed a kiss on the top of her head and gave her a half-hug on my way to the coffee pot.

"Good morning, Edward. How was your date?"

"It was okay."

"Are you going to call her for another night out?" she asked.

I sat next to her and tried to read the expression on her face.

"Umm, probably not. She was nice enough, but not really long-term material, you know?"

Mom nodded. "I just hate seeing you so down. But, Edward... I know you didn't come home last night, I checked your room when I got up. Did you stay with her?" Her eyebrows furrowed, the unspoken judgment of me having a one-night stand.

"No, actually," I said with a laugh. "I ended up staying in my car. I did _try_ to come home, but uh..."

My eyes went wide, pleading and imploring her to understand what I'd walked in on without making me say it.

She laughed and turned pink, shaking her head. "Oh dear," she muttered somewhat to herself. "Sorry about that."

"Are things better, then?" I asked tentatively, hesitantly.

Confusion was written on her expression, and I could see then as little pieces began to knit together in her brain. I felt bad for intruding on their privacy and asking, but seeing as I'd been subjected to listening to my parents go at it like wild animals, I figured maybe just this once she owed me a bit of information.

Her face morphed several times before she spoke; the confusion melted into pain, which changed back into confusion and hurt. I could see her trying to process exactly what she wanted to tell me, and the table was uncomfortably silent for a few minutes.

"Things are getting better, Edward. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you knew anything was off."

Chuckling, I weighed my options. I could lie and tell her it'd been just bits and pieces I had picked up here and there, or I could explain the nights I'd stayed awake listening to her and beg her to tell me every detail.

I settled for a slight shrug.

"You know, Edward, I can hardly believe some days that you're going to be an adult soon. Off to college, building your own life. Being with someone is hard work, Son. It's not like you just get married and it's all roses and sunshine. It takes work. Sometimes, more work than it should, but that's what it's all about – being in it for the long term. You can't go into a relationship, any relationship, whether it's a friendship or a co-worker, or a lab partner, whatever, you can't go in expecting it to be non-stop fun."

Nodding, I took a sip of my coffee and thought about what she said. Until that very moment, I guess I had idealized what marriage and friendships were. I had taken for granted that my interactions with others would always be pleasant, and if not, that they would likely just end. Friendships and romances had been so fleeting up to that point in my life. The idea that a marriage could go through a rough patch and come out okay on the other side, perhaps even better, was a novel one to me. Her voice startled me out of my thoughts and I could see her fiddling with a bracelet sparkling around her wrist as she spoke again.

"Speaking of friends, I haven't seen Jasper in forever. Is everything okay with you two?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that one.

"He's good, I think."

"Everything okay with him at home?" she continued to prod gently.

"Oh yeah, I think things are fine."

"That's good. You boys have been friends for a long time, and I can't imagine your life without Jasper, or vice versa."

My thoughts were wrapped up in Jasper, then. Was she right? Would Jasper and I be friends forever? I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of him not being around.

"Well, we won't have to worry about that for awhile, if we live together in Chicago."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to renovate the apartment when you get accepted and move. I've been looking at listings, you know..."

Laughing, I half-hugged her after I stood. I needed to get a nap and think about things. I was looking forward to Chicago. A new city with an old friend... what could be better?

**A/N2: Please review, I would love to know what you think. **


	4. Jasper and Peter

**A/N: First and foremost, thanks go to Squalloogal for purchasing and requesting this outtake in The Fandom Gives Back auctions. So many people wanted to know about Jasper's past with men, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Thank you to spargelkun for the late-night occupation suggestion and last name for our male protagonist. Thank you to adorablecullens and algonquinrt, for their critical eyes and feedback. **

**Thank you to TwilightMundi for her most excellent beta services. **

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

**JPOV**

Edward and I moved to Chicago so he could go to U of C, and I could play soccer for the Fire. It was an exciting time in our lives, to say the least. After our disastrous senior year of high school, things seemed to be back on track with our friendship. I was mindful of Carlisle's words, and I kept my word to myself that I would give Edward time and space.

When I wasn't training, I made an effort to be with Edward. Unfortunately, he was so entrenched in schoolwork, that meant many nights alone. I got sick of it after a few weeks, so I decided to find my own life. Find my own way.

Despite my disastrous experiences at the gay clubs in Seattle, I actively sought out the scene in Chicago. Boystown was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. The sheer number of people there on any given day or night meant that I had a much wider pool of people to interact with.

At first, I went simply to people watch and check things out. I had come to accept, over the last half-year, that I was firmly bisexual. I didn't prefer men or women, I enjoyed them both equally. Frequently. Sometimes I went to the regular bars downtown, and sometimes I found myself in a gay bar. Sometimes I went home with a beautiful woman, less often, a beautiful man.

We'd been in Chicago a year at that point. It had been a mixed bag of fun, depressing, and interesting new experiences. Edward was either too wrapped up in school or in extreme denial, because I was sending out the most strong, but still subtle, signals I could. My frustration levels were reaching all-time highs. I'd gotten a not-so-subtle off-the-record talk from my coach about being seen in Boystown, so I was asked to lay low for a bit, which was fine by me. Empty sex was getting a little old, if I was honest with myself.

I was still nervous and hesitant to figure out all of the mechanics of sex with a man, and I was certainly not ready for "full blown" sex with a dude. I'd been good about being clear with my intentions, making it obvious that I was only looking for single-night companionship, with both women and men. I simply didn't need the complications a relationship would bring to my life.

The second year seemed to pass in a blur. I continued to play for the Fire, Edward continued to be studious, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air between us. I was content, however, to be alone for the time being.

Isn't that always when the perfect person drops into your lap and life, shaking things up beyond any expectation?

Early one Saturday, I decided to surprise Edward with coffee and donuts. I bundled up over some sweats and ran down the street (literally, since I needed to get cardio in anyway) to get the donuts first. By the time I got to the coffee shop, I was sweating a bit, and distracted with thoughts of Edward's mouth around the aforementioned pastry.

Ordering our drinks, I felt someone looking at me. Not just looking at me, staring. Once I gave the barista my order, I turned and was met with a stunningly beautiful pair of eyes. Lost momentarily in the eyes that reminded me of maple syrup, I had to fight the urge to shiver as my skin prickled under his intense gaze. Only when I heard the cashier clear her throat did I realize I was staring.

I turned, embarrassed, and paid for my drinks. As I shuffled to the side to wait for the coffee, I couldn't help but eavesdrop. His voice was thick and deep, and resonated through my body. He laughed at something the cashier said and my body moved on its own, turning so I could watch him again. His mouth was wide, perfectly white teeth straight behind his lips. He had slight lines at the edges of his eyes, and he reeked of genuine kindness.

Watching his hands move to the employee's to pay, I noticed the way he seemed to move with authority, certainty, and confidence I only wish I had. He reached for his change, dropping a generous tip in the bucket, and took a step closer to me. I could smell him then, the heady mix of man and cologne. Wondering where he was going to, or coming from, I caught myself staring again.

"Hi."

His rich baritone voice seemed to embrace me. I was momentarily stunned, speechless.

"Hi," I managed to sputter out.

"Out for a run?"

Nodding, I allowed my eyes a temporary glance down his body, and back up. He was wearing a long, dark jacket over a grey pinstriped suit. His button-up shirt was being choked by a blue and brown patterned tie that played off the lightness of his eyes.

_Played off his eyes?_ What the fuck was happening to me?

"Off to work?" I asked, finally able to form a coherent thought.

He nodded, not bothering with words. We were looking at each other, appraising, but something more, too.

The barista called my name and I collected the drinks, pressing each cup into the holder I'd asked for. I'd placed the bag with the donuts between the cups, making everything easier to carry back to Edward. A pang of guilt flooded through me at the thought. I'd never, ever thought about someone in the way I was thinking about this man in front of me, aside from Edward.

"Home to your wife, Jasper?" he asked.

Laughing, I shook my head. "No wife."

I decided to leave him with fewer details. He was a perfect stranger, after all, and I had no reason or desire to explain my life to him.

"You?" I chanced, turning to leave.

Except that I really didn't want to leave. I wanted to sit, sip my hot coffee, and listen to him talk.

"Nope," he replied, once again seducing me with his voice.

Our moment felt over. The barista had called his name and I was so fucking preoccupied I hadn't even overheard it, like he obviously had mine. He walked in front of me, holding the door open.

"Thank you," I said as I walked past.

Was I really going to let my last words to this man be "thank you"? I wanted to be thanking him for so much more, but maybe I was just reading the signals all wrong. Guys were friendly with each other sometimes, right?

The rest of my trip to the apartment was spent walking, afraid I'd spill hot coffee all over myself. I alternated between kicking myself for not asking his name and kicking myself for thinking some random guy in a coffee shop was even giving me a second glance.

When I was inside, I pulled the bag of donuts off my tray and a business card tumbled onto the table, face down. My stomach clenched. Had the man in the coffee shop slipped me his card? I debated with myself, unsure if I even wanted to look at it. I'd never know, either way, until I made some contact with him. What if it had been a random advertiser, and I called looking for my coffee shop man?

Noise came from Edward's room and I decided not to chance it. I slipped the card from the table and pushed it into my pocket. There'd be time to look at it later; right then I had some coffee to deliver. I eased each cup from the pressed paper holder, careful not to spill, and picked up the bag of donuts. Knocking softly on his door, I waited for Edward to answer.

We were so close, so fucking close to each other when he pulled the door open. It was a charged moment, on top of my already charged experience from earlier, and my hormones surged. Edward was wearing a tight t-shirt with flannel pajama bottoms, and when he saw the logo on the cup, he smiled wide and true.

"For me?"

_Always, Edward._

"And donuts," I said.

I held up the bag and we sat in the living room eating our breakfast together as the business card burned a metaphorical hole in my pocket. The guilt piled onto my conscience as I waited for my moment to escape to my room and look at the card. Never before had I wanted to speed through the precious little time Edward and I shared.

The expulsion of air from my lungs was audible when I finally made my escape, to the bathroom no less, and stole a peek at the card. My eyes went straight to the name and occupation, printed in bold.

**Peter Omanson, Forensic Accountant**

I recognized the corporate logo and sighed. There was no way this guy would just give me his card, was there?

Deciding there was only one way to find out his intentions, I resolved to send him an email later that day. I tucked the card back in my pocket and finished up, walking out to sit with Edward again. When he left to study, I opened my laptop and composed a hundred different email messages, each trying to sound more casual than the last. I finally settled on a message and pressed send before I could change my mind.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard my laptop chime with a new email just a few minutes later, only to drop when I realized it was spam. I needed a distraction, so I went back to the living room and turned on a movie. Stretching out on the couch, I thought about Edward. And Peter, if that was his name.

After the movie was over, I checked my email again. Sure enough, there was a reply. My hand moved and hovered the pointer of the mouse over the subject line, the anticipation of clicking and reading it making my heart beat faster. I finally clicked, pulled my desk chair out and sat, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

_Jasper,_

_Yes, we did meet in the coffee shop this morning. Yes, I dropped my card in your drink holder on purpose._

_I'm glad you emailed me. I hope it doesn't seem too forward, but I was hoping you might want to intentionally meet up in a coffee shop sometime? Or, perhaps, if you're interested, lunch?_

_-Peter_

I was surprised by the formal tone of his email. Was he asking me out, or trying to get me to buy some financial services? I had no idea what the hell a forensic accountant did.... Maybe he was investigating me for something?

Sighing, I clicked reply and composed a message back. Did it really matter what his end-game was? The truth was, I wanted to see him again, so I said just that. I agreed to coffee or lunch, his choice. Explaining that most of my mornings and some afternoons were free, I gave him a few day and time options to pick from, then pressed send before I chickened out.

That time, the reply came quickly, and I was grateful. We'd set a lunch date for the following Tuesday, at a place downtown. The next three days were excruciating. I just wanted to get through the weekend and go to lunch.

Over the weekend, Edward and I hung out some, but mostly he studied, as usual. We got Sunday brunch at Toast, Edward's new favorite place to eat, and talked about the mundane details of our lives. It was nice, predictable, but not enough, I had come to realize.

I needed more. I deserved more.

Peter and I exchanged no more email after he confirmed the date and time for our lunch. What was I going to do, email him back to say, what? Thanks for setting a lunch meeting? I hadn't clarified what the lunch was for, so it felt awkward to reply and carry on casual conversation.

By the time Tuesday arrived, I'd convinced myself he was just trying to sell me something. Not wanting to dress up exactly, but also not wanting to look like a complete slouch, I wore a fairly nice pair of jeans with a long-sleeved polo shirt. It was still freezing outside, so I was bundled in my jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves when I arrived. He was there, waiting for me, and again wearing a suit that looked tailor-made for him.

As the hostess walked me to the table, I thought about how to greet him, settling on a handshake. It was... awkward. I sat across from him and he smiled so easily, so comfortably. His demeanor only added to my conviction that it couldn't possibly have been a personal lunch date.

"Hi," I greeted, putting on my best chipper face.

"Hey."

His voice was just as I remembered, rough and deep, but somehow soothing at the same time. My face probably noticeably eased at the sound of it, some of my tension drifting away.

"Have you been here before?" he asked.

Shaking my head no, I repeated the question for him. "You?"

"Yeah, actually I'm here a few times a week. It's close to my apartment and I like to bring clients here sometimes."

Nodding, I wondered again if that was what I was: a client. The server arrived and took our drink orders, then left quickly, giving me a short window of opportunity before he'd return to take our lunch orders.

"Is that what this is?" I asked, my voice slightly lower than it had been.

Peter looked at me from above his menu, half his face masked by it. I could see the lines at the corners of his eyes again, and knew he was smiling.

"Do you have some financial indiscretions you need to confess?" His tone was light and playful.

Laughing, I shook my head again. "Nope, none that I'm aware of, anyway. You'd have to ask my advisor. I don't play with money, I pay someone to do it for me."

"Safe to say, then, that this isn't a client meeting."

His menu had been lowered to the table, but his eyes followed, chin tucked into his chest as he seemed to ponder the choices in front of him.

"You know what I do for a living. What is it that you do, Jasper?"

The lower his voice got, the more ragged it became, and I found myself almost lost in it.

"I play soccer," I replied simply.

"Soccer?" He arched a brow, eyes tilted up just slightly to meet mine.

I shrugged and nodded. "Yep, soccer. For the Fire."

We talked casually about MLS and the way soccer seemed to be picking up as a sport in the US.

Our server came back, took our order, and had brought our salads out, all in the time it took me to explain the basics of playing for a pro soccer team. Peter seemed genuinely interested, although he confessed a lack of experience with organized sports in general.

As we ate, I couldn't help the few glances I stole. If we weren't having a client meeting, was this a date? Do guys have lunch dates? That always seemed so oddly high society to me. Tea and sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

"So what _is_ forensic accounting, Peter?"

Okay, I may have asked just so I could watch his lips move. Hear his voice wash over me. As he spoke, I gathered that he was a few years older than me from his experience and education. I tried to listen in a qualitative way to the words he was saying, but mostly, I just watched. When he was done explaining, we shared an uncomfortable silence and I was no closer to understanding what the fuck he did all day.

Our food arrived and I stared at my plate, suddenly not hungry. I pushed my food around, growing more confused as the minutes passed.

"Is something wrong?"

Looking up at him, I decided to go for direct. "I'm just confused. I'm not exactly sure why you asked me here."

He chuckled softly, bringing his white napkin to his mouth. As the fabric brushed his lips, plump and pink, I was envious.

"I thought we could get to know each other better," he finally answered.

It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying, my mind having lost track of the last question I'd asked. My brows furrowed as I took a few bites, contemplating this new information. I only had dates with women to compare, and I'd never have asked a woman to lunch if I was interested in her.

"The season just began, would you like to come to a game on Thursday?"

My eyes stayed low, focused on the plate in front of me. Another forkful of lunch was lifted to my mouth and I chewed, waiting for his answer. Chewing. Waiting. Chewing. Waiting.

Then I felt something bump my foot under the table. I nearly choked swallowing my bite. I hadn't moved my legs at all, so it couldn't have been the table.

"I'd like that, Jasper."

I didn't even have to look up to see his smile, the emotion came through in his voice so clearly. It wasn't like he was playing footsie with me under the table, either, he simply rested his foot against mine. It was an odd gesture, but I imagined it as one of the few that were deemed publicly acceptable in a place he frequented for business. I had no idea if he was out or even gay at that point, and I certainly wasn't, and had no plans to be, especially after the lecture from my coach.

We finished without many more words exchanged between us. The silence had shifted and become mostly comfortable, however.

Later that day, I emailed him the information he'd need to give at the Will Call ticket booth in order to get into the stadium. I left him a ticket for a seat next to Edward. Warning Edward I was inviting a friend had sparked a conversation about who he was, where we'd met, and other minor details. The slightest hint of jealousy crept into Edward's voice, and I couldn't help but feel smug, and more than a little depressed. I'd waited all this time for him, he couldn't really be jealous now, could he?

Before the game, I went to the seats and was surprised to see Peter in casual clothes. Both of the times I'd seen him, he'd been dressed for work. It was nice to see him in jeans and a thick sweater, cheeks pink from the chill in the air. I introduced him to Edward and spent a few minutes talking to both of them before I had to go warm up for the game. I shot Edward a slight warning glance, letting him know I expected him to be on his best behavior with Peter.

The game was great. We won, and I'd gotten plenty of time on the field. I felt the same euphoric high I always had when I played.

Nervous to find out how things had gone between Peter and Edward, I showered quickly and made my way out to where we'd agreed to meet. The three of us went to a bar nearby for a quick beer. Since it was a work night, I knew we wouldn't be out late, but it would give me another nice chance to talk to Peter and spend time with him.

We talked and drank, snacking on some wings. It wasn't the easy, light, post-game beer drinking I'd hoped for, but it was a start. When we parted ways, it was just that – a parting of ways. There was no handshake, no man hug, nothing.

Edward was silent the entire way back to the apartment, but once the door was closed, the interrogation began.

"Jasper, is Peter your...."

As he spoke, his eyebrows came together in the middle of his forehead, the deep line there speaking volumes about his concern.

"I don't know, Edward. I mean, no, he's not right now."

"Do you... Do you want him to be?" he asked, his voice growing smaller.

"I don't know."

It was the truth. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I wasn't looking for anyone. I'd found what I wanted. Sometimes, life just doesn't work that way, though. Sometimes the person you love the most doesn't love you back. I had to accept that my love for Edward wasn't enough to create a relationship where none existed, or was wanted.

"Huh," was the last thing Edward said before walking to his room. He closed the door quietly and I didn't see him again that night.

Ironically, I had an email waiting for me from Peter when I got around to checking.

_Jasper,_

_I had a nice time at the game tonight. Congrats again on your win, and thank you for inviting me._

_I feel a little foolish, though. I had no idea you were dating someone already, and I apologize for pursuing you when you have someone in your life. I wish you all the best._

_-Peter_

Fucking great.

My fingers flew on the keyboard, composing my reply.

_Peter-_

_Thank you for coming to the game. _

_I'm a little confused, however, at your assumption that I have someone already. If you're referring to Edward, trust me, there's nothing there. We're simply life-long best friends. Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but I'd love the chance to explain. Dinner?_

_J_

The moment I hit send, I set the laptop down on the desk and flopped back onto my pillows. A perfect stranger could pick up on the connection we had, yet Edward refused to acknowledge it. I wondered if he'd ever even thought about it, or if he was completely and entirely oblivious?

Grumping around my room, I changed into sleep clothes and curled up wrapped around a pillow. I woke the next morning cramped up in the same position I'd been in the night before, upset with myself and the circumstances of the last day. Edward was banging around in the kitchen, so I walked out to talk to him.

"Morning," I said.

He just grunted back at me, not even dignifying my greeting with real words. That only made me more pissed.

"Are we going to talk about this, or are you just going to be an asshole? I don't even know what you're so mad about!"

Leaning against the counter, I watched him move around the tiny space. Finally, he gave up and leaned against the counter opposite me, looking at the floor.

"I feel like you have this whole other life without me," he said softly. "I know I'm busy with school, I guess I just –" he stopped to sigh. "I don't know."

"Edward, I don't know what you expect of me, or what you want from me."

"Me either, Jazz."

He wandered away, back to his room to get ready for class, I assumed. I went to mine, remembering the email I'd sent to Peter the night before. I had an email from Esme asking the usual questions and filling me in on the happenings around town, one from coach about weekend practice times, and a reply from Peter. I saved the email from Peter for last, then quickly skimmed it before going back for a second in-depth read. He'd agreed to dinner, inviting me to his apartment that evening.

Knowing I'd be spending the latter part of the day with Peter meant I needed to get my workout and errands done earlier than usual. The apartment door slammed shut and I knew Edward was gone to class for the day.

I worked out harder than usual, taking my frustration out on the track, then weights. My muscles burned by the time I was finished, and more than once, I'd thought about sweating with Peter. I wondered what his skin would feel like against mine, the texture of his fingers on my skin, his lips kissing my body. It was the first time I truly wondered and thought I might want to go _there_ with a guy, too. The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

Edward wasn't home when I got back, so I texted to make sure he was okay. I wouldn't delay living my life anymore, but that didn't mean I'd stop caring about him, either. He texted me almost right back to let me know he was going out with some friends and would be home later.

After my shower, I changed into jeans and a t-shirt, putting my winter wear on over. I scanned Peter's email for his address again and used Google Maps to navigate there. Nerves were threatening to make me heave; what did you bring to a date like this? Beer? Wine? Condoms?

Probably some combination of the three, and there I was, showing up empty-handed. Knocking lightly on his door, I shifted my weight and took one last deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. It didn't work.

Peter answered, looking just as good as he had at the soccer game, in jeans and a form-fitting tee. He had stubble on his cheeks and I smiled. In my past forays into the area of being with men, I'd never been one for kissing, but I wanted to feel his stubble on my cheek... and elsewhere.

"Hey," I greeted.

Smiling, he stepped back and to the side of the open door, ushering me inside.

"Come on in. I was just finishing up dinner. I hope you like paella."

"It smells great," I reassured him, and it really did. I wasn't the best cook ever, and Edward had stopped cooking meals, I imagined in reaction to the recent tension between us.

"I have a Spanish red over there," he said, pointing to the bottle resting on the counter opposite the stove. "Can you uncork it and pour us some?"

The entire night was one big cliché. It was as if I had been transported into some chick flick, only _I_ was there, sitting on the couch opposite a devastatingly handsome man. We were sipping our red wine and sharing facts and information about ourselves in typical first-date style.

It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. And I thought I'd experienced an awful lot in life.

I learned about Peter, his childhood, his disastrous dates with women, coming out to his parents, coming out to his employer, his slightly-less-disastrous dates with a few men, a couple failed relationships, and then some. Doing the best I could to explain my life without garnering pity about my family and circumstances, I shifted on the couch, my body turned toward his. I offered just enough details about my sexual experience so that he'd know I'd been with men and women before, but didn't go into detail.

Familiar with all of the typical signs of seduction, I felt a nervous flutter when Peter's hand lifted to the back of the couch, resting inches from mine. He set his glass on the table, then took mine from me and did the same. My breathing picked up as he leaned forward, the heat from his body radiating into mine.

His pants slid up against mine, the texture of denim on denim causing a strange sensation. One of his hands cupped my face, the other resting on the outside edge of my body as I laid back. His thumb brushed across my lower lip first, a tease of what was on its way. Parting his lips, his eyes stayed focused on my mouth. I watched as he tentatively brushed his lips over the surface of mine. His tongue darted out to taste and wet mine before he brought his lips back for more.

After the first hesitant kiss, he pressed his body into me, lips sinking against mine with more pressure. His whiskers both tickled and scratched against my skin, and the hand that had been on the couch at my side moved, snaking its way under my shirt. Curling it under my back, he pulled me tighter to him. His hips pressed into mine, and he groaned. The depth of his voice made it sound vaguely like a purr and the noise went straight to my cock.

His lips left my mouth, nipping at my chin and across my jaw. Our lower halves continued to move against each other, the friction relieving the want only slightly. Peter's hands went to the buttons on my jeans, undoing the first few quickly. As he shifted to slip his hand beneath the denim, my body twisted to get closer, and we ended up falling off the couch.

Thankfully, we both landed without too much injury. After our laughter died down, I pinned Peter to the floor beneath me, straddling his hips, and treated him to some of the same teasing he'd gifted me with. Trailing nips and kisses down his jaw to his neck, then over the top of his t-shirt, I quickly tugged to remove it. I sat up as he lifted the fabric off his body and threw it somewhere. His hands flew to my hips, pulling my own shirt off, and we resumed making out like teenagers on the ground.

Finally, his hands moved south again, circling my waist. My pants were loose and he took advantage, slipping beneath them and running his fingertips over my boxer briefs. Squeezing, he pulled me closer and I moaned against his neck, muttering a few obscenities.

Shoving my pants down my body, I realized I was falling behind and began to undo his jeans. I slipped my body lower, taking my weight off his, so I could tug his pants off. My nerves crept up when we were down to our boxers and nothing else. What was I going to say if he wanted more than what I was comfortable giving in that moment?

Giving me no time to over think, his hands were at the band of my boxers, dipping below. Grabbing me firmly, a slow smirk crept across his face.

"God, I hope you taste as good as you look and feel."

My body reacted immediately, and I couldn't wait to get to the next step. We arranged our bodies and I was face-to-face with his naked erection. The truth was, I'd never spent much time simply enjoying another man; most of my interludes were quick and purpose-driven. I wanted this time with Peter to be different – it already was so different in so many ways. I realized I felt comfortable with him. I felt safe.

Taking longer than normal, I touched and loved him, tracing patterns and lines along his thighs and everywhere in between. We were lying on our sides, which meant no one was crushing anyone and I was enjoying his own leisurely pace exploring my body. I'd had enough genuine-sounding compliments to know that I was decent at giving head, but that moment was about so much more.

Licking my lips, I used my hand to cup his sac and tease him as I placed a wet kiss at the tip of his head. My tongue swept out, licking the pre-cum that had collected. As I flicked my tongue out again and swirled around, it landed in the divot of space that was beneath his head. His hips arched his body closer to me. I wrapped my lips around the same space my tongue had just been, then pulled up, allowing a little suction to form before he slid out from my mouth. Kissing, licking, even gently biting, I explored the length of him, teasing and testing to see how he responded to each movement.

Not long after we began, his warm, wet lips wrapped around me and he began to work in earnest, distracting me from my exploration. I mirrored his movements, play time over for the moment. Even though we were definitely driving each other to the edge quickly, it didn't feel like either one of us was rushing. The languid pace we'd begun with was still dictating our movements and each of us would stop now and then to lick or kiss and bring each other back from the brink.

When neither of us could take it anymore, our bodies slick with the sweat and effort of our lust, we picked up our pace. Peter's fingers crept slightly lower, pressing gently against my opening, and my entire body went rigid with my orgasm. I'd never come with someone before, and the strange sensation of having his body in my mouth hit me as I moaned around him, desperate to make him feel as good as he'd just made me feel.

Once I'd regained the ability to move, I hooked both arms around his hips as best I could, bringing his whole lower half closer to me. Without realizing it, my pace had quickened and I was moaning around him. I could feel his hands still on my body, touching and caressing my skin as I drew him closer to his climax. His hips moved rhythmically with my actions and he came moments later, quiet whispers of words slipping from between his lips as he did.

I was struck immediately after, again, at the differences between this experience and every previous sexual interaction I'd had with a man. Peter seemed in no hurry to leave my body, to kick me out, to clean up and pretend what had happened hadn't. His lips dragged on my skin, his fingers trailed paths, his body vibrated with his hums and little noises of contentment.

Turning so that our bodies were the same direction, I laid on my back next to him, our arms touching. His fingers laced into mine, and I knew it wasn't just the sex that would be different with Peter.

Over the next few weeks, we saw each other regularly. He became a fixture at my games, like Edward. They'd come to some sort of silent understanding, and I was glad.

I knew my time avoiding the next step in things with Peter was limited. I didn't want to avoid it any longer, either. We'd fallen into a comfortable routine of Friday night dinners at his apartment, and we'd just polished off most of a roasted chicken with roasted garlic potatoes when I decided the timing was right. We were washing dishes, well, Peter was washing, I was drying and putting them away.

Turning to look at him when we were finished, I wrapped my hands around his waist and brought him closer. Nuzzling my nose at the juncture of his neck, I inhaled deeply, drinking him in.

The truth was, I had no idea what the standard amount of time was before penetration became an issue, I just wanted more. More from Peter, more from his body, more from my own. I knew he'd sensed my hesitation several times before, so I took the initiative and led him back to the bedroom, kissing and groping each other the entire way.

Clothes were stripped, landing wherever they fell as he walked backward to the bed. Knowing enough to know I'd need lube, I whispered my question, hoping he would catch on to what I wanted to do. He climbed up onto the bed, opened his bedside table drawer, and grabbed a condom and a small, black bottle. We were naked, physically and metaphorically, and ready. We'd talked about safe sex, talked about STDs, we knew each other's bodies as well as we could.

Reminding myself I was ready, at least for this portion, I ripped the condom wrapper open. My eyes looked up to his for guidance, reassurance, anything, and just as I'd hoped, they were wide with everything I needed and more. His soft smile reminded me of what we hadn't yet been brave enough to say: we were in love with each other. We trusted each other.

He unscrewed the cap of the bottle in my hand, then placed his over mine, tipping the slippery liquid out onto my condom-covered erection. Both of his hands surrounded me, slicking me up, but also repeating the unspoken reminders. Leaning back, he began to stroke himself. The sight was more than I could take, and I shifted my body forward onto his.

This couldn't be much different than what I was used to, right?

Except that it was. As I penetrated Peter, I realized this was nothing like what I was used to. His hips moved with mine, slowly accepting me. I watched my body disappear into his and had to stop my movement for fear I'd come on the spot. Once I was composed, I lowered my upper half, needing the connection to him again, and kissed him. His kiss had shifted from the time in the kitchen and was filled with need. He was murmuring, alternating between cursing and begging. Moving slowly, I pulled back and pressed into him at a frustratingly slow pace.

"Please, Jasper. Please," he begged again.

"Am I hurting you?"

"God no. Harder, baby, please."

My eyebrows shot up, and I was glad his eyes were closed. I complied, moving faster, thrusting deeper, provoking noises and movements from his body I'd never experienced. Embarrassingly quickly, I came. My forehead rested against his and I began to quietly apologize.

"Christ, I'm so sorry. I had no idea... I mean, I just... It was just _too_ good..."

Peter laughed, so hard and intensely that his muscles tightened around me and I groaned, the sensation overwhelming. How could I already be getting hard again?

"Jazz, have you never done that before?"

Here we go, I thought.

Backing up, I pulled my body from his and got up to dispose of the condom. I walked back to the bed feeling stripped of my defenses. I had no choice but to be honest, and hadn't I just seen his love and trust for me in his face? Didn't I feel the same?

"No, I haven't," I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, his arms looped around my waist and he pulled me back to the bed with him. We were spooning, that delicious post-coital spoon where you're each weighing whether or not you have the stamina or energy to try for round two. Except that he hadn't even had round one, I realized.

"Why are you turning all pink and mushy in front of me? It's not that big of a deal, you know. My fingers have been, uh, _exploring_ for some time now, and you don't seem to have minded. Not that my cock is the size of my fingers," he finished, laughing.

"I'm just scared. Nervous."

"Understandable. You trust me though, right?"

I nodded. I did trust him. His hands went to my shoulders, turning me to face him.

"Do you want to? It's up to you. It's your choice, Jasper."

The fact that his hands had begun to roam my body wasn't lost on me, the lust creeping over me like a foggy San Francisco afternoon in the fall.

"Yeah," I breathed. "Yes."

His lips fell on mine, and I was grateful it seemed like he wasn't going to just dive right in. He was right, though, he'd penetrated me with his fingers before, and that eased my mind more than I imagined it might. My body relaxed beneath his, hands, fingers, lips, and tongue, roaming and exploring. Teasing me, bringing me back up to a high level of anticipation and desire.

My eyes were tightly closed, but I heard the drawer next to my head slide open, then closed again, as he grabbed what I assumed was a condom. I hadn't even noticed when he began to use his fingers moments later, it had become such a regular part of our intimacy. Only when he added a third finger, something he'd never done before, did I realize he was moving on. My body tensed momentarily and he brought his mouth back up my body.

"Relax, baby. Trust me. Let me make you feel good. I promise I won't hurt you."

Stroking my face with his other hand, I turned to look into his eyes.

"Take a deep breath," he said, lips against mine. I felt his fingers glide in and out a few more times, then pull back slowly. "I love you, Jasper," he mumbled against the skin on my neck. "Open your eyes. Look at me. Watch me."

The hand that had been on my face moved to hold his body up, his other trailing the head of his cock up and down, teasing me. I pulled my knees up and he pressed forward slowly, as promised, taking his time. Just as he moved forward with precision and care, he would pull back and allow my body to grow accustomed to him. Teasing me like that was working. My head was tilted back, breathing rapid, and I just wanted him to get on with it.

With a groan, I rolled my hips against his the next time he moved forward, only to yelp slightly and pull back quickly. Seeing the rationale of his slow movements, I took a breath to relax my body again. His hand that had been up on the bed moved to rest on my stomach lightly and his movements stopped. He was on his knees, leaned back, looking at me. Smiling at me. Filled with lust and desire, for me.

Moving my knees up and apart, he lowered onto me again. His hand guided his lower half back to mine and he pressed forward, not pulling back that time. The sensation was uncomfortable for a moment, then grew pleasurable as I felt him hitting spots deep inside, at different angles than I was used to. He'd done his best to prepare me, there was no pain from the stretching, just pleasure as he began to move.

His hips moved in slow and steady strokes, and eventually I got brave enough to move mine again. Our bodies pressed together farther, and it was the closest I'd felt to someone, anyone, ever.

"Touch yourself," he whispered.

Our bodies were already gliding together, and I slipped my hand between us to do as he asked.

"Fuck. You are so fucking sexy right now, beneath me, Jasper."

The last impetus I needed, his words threw me over the edge for the second time that night. I came all over my chest and heard him swear again as he followed close behind. I could imagine the sensation he felt of being inside me as I came, remembering the brief tightening of his muscles when he laughed.

He stilled, my hand trapped between us, foreheads touching again, and whispered "Thank you."

Our eyes met again, and I smiled. I felt light, free, happy. The proverbial birds were chirping above my head as we climbed out of bed and showered together.

The next few months were spent in a sort of lust-filled, blissed-out haze. We went on more discreet dates, we made love, we fucked. He came to more games, we had beers with Edward, we talked about his job, which I never fully understood, despite his repeated attempts to explain. We laughed about never having to deal with tampons, periods, PMS, or chick flicks, although I did point out the benefit of breasts and reminded him that I loved pussy just as much as his impressive cock. He pouted for a few minutes about that.

Each time my thoughts dove into wondering about what we were, what we were doing together, where it was all going, I yanked them back. I was tired of living in some unspoken future, waiting around. I needed to live in the now.

And just like that, just as unexpectedly as he'd fallen into my life, Peter was taken from it.

I should have seen it coming, should have felt it coming, but I had mastered the art of denial. We'd begun to fight because he was far more out than I was, and it frustrated him that I couldn't (or wouldn't) attend company functions with him. I wasn't willing to risk my career.

That was what it came down to, in the end. I wasn't willing to risk for him.

The doubt crept in, then. Why? Why wasn't I willing to risk it for him? If Edward had asked the same of me, would I have done it? Would I have told my coach to go to hell?

I knew the answers to those questions, and so did Peter.

We tried to be civilized about it. Logical. Rational. Reasonable, even. Tried to stay friends. It was just impossible. Every time I saw him, the raw feelings came flooding back and I wanted so badly for him to be the one I'd leap off the bridge for... and knowing he felt the same way only made it worse. I was that person for him, but he would never be that person for me. Just as with Edward, love wasn't enough to make it work.

Cutting off all contact was brutal, but we both thought it was the best plan. I went from seeing him several times a week to nothing. I was depressed, lonely, alone, and desperately horny. My game suffered, my life suffered, and my heart was broken.

Something began to shift in those post-Peter months. I spent more time around the apartment. Edward and I saw each other more. Throughout my dating Peter, I'd grown more comfortable with myself, with my sexuality, and with whatever role Edward played in that.

So subtly I couldn't tell you exactly when it happened, things with Edward changed and became easier. It had been almost a year and a half since Peter and I had broken up. Edward was just about to graduate with his undergrad degree. I'd begun to walk in on him in the shower, taking the brief chances I had to talk to him whenever and wherever they appeared.

Finally, one morning, I realized I wanted more. I was ready to take the risk. Carlisle had warned me not to push Edward, but he never said not to try, right? The bathroom door was unlocked, and I smiled. Edward may have felt trepidation, but his actions spoke much, much louder.

Closing the door quietly behind me, I began to remove my clothes. I folded them neatly, wanting to take my time and calm my own nerves. Instead of the talking we normally did, I opened the door and stepped into the shower behind him.

"Jasper, what the fuck?"

I laughed. It was almost adorable how his words spoke the opposite of his body, leaning against me unconsciously.

"Let me make you feel good, Edward," I said softly, Peter's words ringing in my ears.

"Jazz..."

His body was slippery with soap and I took advantage, running my hands down to his cock before he had a chance to over think. I gripped him tightly, the culmination of years of fantasies playing in my head in that moment. My other hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him against me, allowing him to feel just how turned on I was. Leaning forward, he placed a hand against the wall, pressing back into me even more, and I groaned.

Moments later, he came hard and loud. My hands caressed him gently as I turned to walk away. Wanting to tease him, to pleasure him and make him confident in us, I left.

Grabbing my clothes and a towel, I made my way to my room, where I laid on my bed and pleasured myself. Thinking about the weight and feel of his skin in my hand, the way he slid between my fingers and against my palm, I came almost as quickly as he had, into a wad of tissue.

I threw it away, my stomach in knots of terror. Had I pushed too hard? He responded, his body responded, and that was something. I just needed his brain to catch up to us. Hiding in my room, we avoided each other that night. I grew afraid. What if I had fucked up over twenty years of friendship for ten minutes of pleasure? I barely slept that night.

Finally, I got out of bed the next morning, unable to lie horizontal beating myself up for another minute. I had a game that day. I needed to be at my best. I needed to eat, fuel my body, workout, and prepare my mind.

Entirely lost in thought, I hadn't even heard Edward enter the shower. The relief that shot through me was immediate and complete as I felt his hard body behind mine. Where he had protested slightly the morning before, I yielded entirely to him.

His hands touched and rubbed me, stroking and loving me, bringing me to an orgasm equally as epic as the one I'd delivered to him the day before. As I had, he left the bathroom immediately after, and I assumed he was wrestling with the same demons I'd had years to fight. I made the choice to let Edward work through what he needed to on his own, knowing my biased influence in the process could possibly come back to bite me in the ass.

Edward attended my game that night, smiling at me from the stands. We went home and talked, really talked, for the first time in months. Not about what had happened between us, just about our lives, how school was going, the team. I slept so soundly, so peacefully, a train could have run right through our apartment and I'd never have noticed.

Something shifted that week and forever altered who we were, both as individuals and together. I had no idea when I stepped into the shower just what an impact it would have on us. Maybe we'd have gotten there eventually without that morning, but the timing allowed us to grow comfortable with each other before Bella showed up, tilting our worlds on their axis once again. Nothing would be the same, and I couldn't have been happier.

**A/N2: Please review; I would love to know what you think. Photos I used for Peter inspiration are on my LiveJournal, which is linked from my profile.  
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